


Avenging Angel

by Moonsault



Series: Heaven & Hell [13]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Episode Tag, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Regret, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault





	Avenging Angel

Kevin has his first knee surgery when he’s eighteen. He comes up out of the anaesthesia panicky and disoriented, screaming about angels. He tells his parents later he doesn’t remember what all that was about; when they assume he was imagining angels gathering to protect his soul he doesn’t contradict them.

Neither is true.

The knee bothers him off and on all through his career. The pain will spend years at a dull ache, and then suddenly the joint will seem to give up, weaken, fracture, sending pain stabbing through his days and nights, unceasing. He doesn’t like to think about those times. Those are the times when bad things happen, when he can feel the pitiless gaze of a thousand winged eyes on him, disgusted at his mortality, his limitations, the weak flesh he’s trapped in.

The angels watch him.

* * *

Kevin’s tapping out.

He’s tapping out he’s tapping out he’s tapping out, but the pain in his knee won’t stop, it won’t stop, he’s tapping out and it _won’t stop._ He starts screaming as Styles leans harder, as his knee pops and groans and pain lances up his leg through his whole body. He _tapped out_ , because how will they ever win the championship if he can’t stand? But the pain isn’t ending, it’s never going to end--

Styles lets go of him and Kevin rolls over, clutching at his knee, trying to think through the agony. The crowd noise rises and he hears Styles make a surprised noise of pain, hears a familiar voice hissing curses.

He looks up and Sami is standing over him, incandescent, his eyes furious and angry.

Lost in pain, Kevin flinches away, tries to flee for a second before he realizes that Sami is bending over him, checking on him. He gets out of the ring somehow. Sami’s still with him, whispering to him, whispering _how dare he_ and _make him pay_ and _make him hurt,_ and then he’s gone again, and Kevin feels a wash of relief at feeling when those brilliant eyes turn away from him. He hobbles toward the ramp, trying to get away. Pain casts odd wavering auras around everything; in the ring, Sami’s copper hair is a glorious halo, his hands as bright as swords. He’s beautiful and merciless and Kevin feels terror go through him like a spear.

There are trainers. They touch his knee and Kevin tries not to scream. They’ll never win the championship now, he’ll never hold it aloft with Sami. This knee, this _fucking_ knee, the weak spot in all his armor. He remembers the last time it hurt this bad, he remembers what he had to do to make the pain stop, the feel of the chair heavy and cold in his hands, the masked eyes staring up at him. _No. Not that. Please._

The trainers yell something, there’s chaos around him and Styles is kicking him, the motherfucker is _kicking his knee_ , and Kevin’s too shocked to even scream before Sami slams into Styles, bright as the sun, screaming with fury. He’ll obliterate Styles all on his own, he doesn’t need Kevin for that, he never did. Kevin can’t seem to take his eyes off him, he’s all wings and wheels and beauty and judgment, and eventually that judgment will turn from Styles to Kevin, won’t it?

They’re putting him on a stretcher, like a hospital bed, the bed he made and now he has to lie in it. He has a vague feeling that his thoughts aren’t quite coherent right now, but how could they be when Sami is blazing like a star in the ring? The trainers push him to lie down, cutting off his view of the ring, but he can still feel Sami’s rage like a furnace, blistering at his skin. He closes his eyes.

He’s falling.

He has time for one startled gasp and then he’s falling. He seems to fall forever, he wasn’t ready, he never is. The floor jars up against him and he hears Sami screaming. His knee is a dagger of pain, everything is a fiery blur of tears.

The bell rings and he knows Sami’s won. How could anyone stand against him? They’re trying to put him back on the stretcher, but fuck that, he hauls himself into the ring to be with Sami here in triumph for just one moment. Sami is bright and lovely and unstoppable, and Kevin finds himself whispering broken nonsense into his ear, just to say _something_ to him now, just be heard by him. The words are hot coals on his lips: he tells Sami he’s beautiful, that Kevin is lucky to be by his side, that they’ll win.

“Of course we will,” says Sami, with all the force of heaven behind it, and pulls him to stand over Styles in victory, as they will again soon. 

Kevin puts his weight on that weak and flawed knee and stands tall with his angel for as long as he can.


End file.
